


rest your head upon my shoulder

by atlantisairlock



Series: quiet nights poured over ice & tanqueray: shoot x halsey [7]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Cute, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Future Fic, Marriage Proposal, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:25:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Root has the perfect proposal plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rest your head upon my shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](http://tantoun.tumblr.com/post/132824642588/i-was-thinking-about-shoot-the-other-day-and-im).

If anybody had told Sameen Shaw that one day she would be playing house with Root, Root correctly guesses that she would probably have zip-tied that same unfortunate to a lamppost and left them there for days. And that would be the best case scenario. 

And yet, here she is - watching Shaw sleepily tiptoe to grab a couple sachets of coffee powder from a kitchen cabinet, settling down at the dining table to tuck into the pancakes Root made for breakfast. 

Will miracles never cease? 

She perches on the edge of the sofa to watch Shaw for a good minute before finally getting up and weaving her way into the kitchen, sliding her arms around Shaw's waist, leaning over her shoulder to kiss her on the edge of her mouth. Shaw tastes like maple syrup and doesn't smile, but Root feels the tension in her shoulders give. "Morn'."

"Good morning, Sameen," Root replies, and as Shaw turns her head to kiss her properly, she wonders if  _anything_ could possibly be better than this. "How are you liking my pancakes? I made them specially for our anniversary."

"Ew," Shaw answers flatly, but sticks her fork into another piece and eats it anyway. "For the last time, we don't have an anniversary. And it's certainly not the date when I ran into a hail of gunfire to save all your asses." 

"But that was our first kiss," Root teases, playing with the hem of Shaw's shirt, and Shaw rolls her eyes - but it's not lost on Root how an involuntary shudder travels down her spine. There are some experiences you can't go through without acquiring scars that never, ever fade, and Root knows Shaw doesn't like to talk about her time as Samaritan's prisoner - breaking, being broken, losing herself. Shaw doesn't understand why Root dubs this their anniversary, and Root doesn't know how to tell her that every time the date rolls around, it forces her to remember just how much Shaw suffered and fought - for them. For her. It's something she can't afford to forget. 

Root delicately fingers the tiny box in her pocket, suddenly feeling like there's a bramble stuck in her throat. The pancakes are only the first thing on her agenda; she's eager for Shaw to hurry up and finish them so she can move the rest of the plan along. Root slips her fingers beneath Shaw's thin sweatshirt, tracing the familiar lines of muscle and feeling her tense. "Come on, I have plans for us. Finish the damn pancakes."

"Someone's eager," Shaw answers coolly, but a wicked grin spreads across her face as she drizzles the last two pancakes with chocolate sauce and starts eating maddeningly slowly. She doesn't even respond when Root jabs her in the ribs, and eventually Root goes back to her spot on the sofa to pout for ten minutes as Shaw 'savours' her breakfast. 

The moment Shaw eats the last piece of pancake, Root slides her hand into her pocket again, to grab that precious little box -

her pocket is  _empty._ A sudden wave of panic floods her - god forbid, did she  _drop it?_ Root swallows hard, eyes darting around to look at the area around the sofa, the alleyway towards the kitchen, heads into the kitchen and circles the entire dining table; oh  _god_ it's not there! Root runs back to the living room to check again between the cushions. She's halfway down the corridor when something hard meets the back of her head and she topples to the ground.

Root manages to get up in the span of seconds - it's not like Shaw threw a fridge at her or something, but whatever the hell that was, it still _hurts,_ and she's left rubbing the spot where she was hit dead centre. "God, Shaw, what the - "

"Marry me."

Root stops dead, her mouth wide open, doing an impressive mockery of a dead fish. She looks down at her feet, where the box sits, royal blue stark against white tile. Shaw's standing by her dining room chair, a smug expression on her face, and maybe even a  _smile._ Root blinks, picking the box up and waiting dumbly for Shaw to come over, to place her hands on Root's hips and lean her forehead against Root's. "Looking for something?"

Shaw  _pickpocketed_ her. Root stares at her in admiration, in awe - so many years, and this woman continues to amaze her every day. Shaw swiftly plucks the box from Root's cupped palms, holding it tight in her fist. "Sorry to spoil your brilliant plan, but I'm doing it," Shaw says bluntly. "I'm proposing." She pauses, seemingly grasping for the right words. "I want to - you - you  _deserve_ this. I want to do it." 

Root bursts into tears. She knows it's  _ridiculous,_ and feels indubitably foolish when Shaw pets her gently while she heaves a few sobs, but she can't help it. She manages to compose herself and wipe away her tears while Shaw stands right there, in the corridor, right in front of her, waiting patiently. She waits till Root's calm once more to drop onto one knee and open the box - there's an open earnestness on her face that Root's never seen, that makes her heart clench beneath her ribcage. 

"Root. Fiancee or not, I swear I'll fucking _shoot_ you myself if you ever tell anyone I said this. But..." She huffs a sigh. "I want to do this with you for the rest of my life. Play house. Eat pancakes for breakfast. Have you beside me every night. I choose you, Root. Marry me."

She quite nearly reels back -  _I choose you_ is the closest Shaw knows how to get to  _I love you._ It's more than enough for Root - it makes her want to get down and wrap her arms around Shaw's neck, and that's what she does. She buries her face in the hollow of Shaw's collarbone, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair and her skin. 

Shaw is unimpressed. "You were supposed to say  _I will_ and wear the damn ring."

It takes Root a moment before she puts the pieces together, drawing back with a sparkle in her eyes. "You  _planned_ this. After you figured out _my_ plan."

Shaw rolls her eyes, which Root takes as agreement. She throws her head back and laughs, laughs for a good minute, feels the tears springing to her eyes. She cups Shaw's face with one hand, meeting her gaze with a teary-eyed smile. _"Yes."_

The briefest hint of a smile flickers across Shaw's face as she takes one of the rings and slides it onto Root's finger, brow furrowed with concentration. Once it's securely set on her hand, Root grabs her by the collar and pulls her close, kissing her fiercely. "I love you," she says, voice shot through with emotion, and Shaw leans her forehead against Root's, eyes closed. "I choose you, too." 


End file.
